Maintenance Part III: It's Not a Purse

This will be my last column before the April 4^th election, and my original plan was to once again use this forum to advocate for the Schools Facility Sales Tax.  While the first installment of my very boring “tax trilogy” introduced the need behind the proposal and the second column focused on rebuking misinformation, this final argument was going to be a last-ditch appeal to your moral compass.

That type of persuasion doesn’t sell very well for people who actually read newspaper columns, though, and besides, the election is next week.  To borrow a phrase so vividly displayed throughout the county, “Enough is enough.”  Let’s talk about something else.  After all, by this point in the conversation, you undoubtedly fall into one of three camps:  those voting “yes,” those voting “no,” and those not voting.  (Although, if you find yourself in the latter camp, you might want to reconsider.  The point spread on these kinds of issues is sometimes pretty tight.)

So, instead of another dull column about taxes, let’s discuss something that is actually interesting:  My briefcase.

My briefcase is close to twenty years old.  It’s a brown leather satchel that looks like the pouch Indiana Jones used to rescue artifacts from jungles and desserts before putting them in museums.  This subtle connection is by design.  Like many guys my age, I wanted to be Indiana Jones while growing up, so it was not an accident that I ended up with a briefcase that helped with that look.  Bullwhips are not allowed where I teach and I’m not hip enough to pull off a fedora, so the satchel had to do.

Some of my more clever students, of course, tell me that it looks more like a purse than a satchel but they are wrong. 

Regardless, this briefcase was a gift from my parents for college graduation, which was exactly nineteen springs ago.  I’ve used this satchel all those years, and, I always told myself, once this thing falls apart, it means I will need to start looking for another job.

About a month ago one of the handles snapped, and now the satchel hangs by a proverbial thread.  I still really like my job, though, so I plan on fixing the briefcase and stay where I am.  The question becomes, then, how do I fix it?

I am very tempted to use some of my son’s crazy amount of duct tape.  (As an aside, is there anyone else around here with a kid who actually asked for tape for Christmas?  And then the kid gets a bunch of tape, and then spends hours making things—like scary toy robots—out of this tape and old coffee canisters? 

But then the kid somehow can’t put his own socks on when it’s time for school?

Or is this just me?)

Anyway, the duct tape is not really going to fix the problem. It’s a quick fix, cheap and easy, but the briefcase is just going to break again.  The briefcase needs repaired by someone who actually knows what they’re doing.  This will be more expensive in the short term, yes, but it’s the more pragmatic choice in the end.

We all know that, right?

Interestingly enough, this briefcase situation actually reminds me of something.  It reminds me that I don’t live in a duct-tape town.  When this community builds something—be it a monument or an activity center—it builds it right.  When I think about Effingham, or Altamont, for that matter, or Teutopolis, or Dieterich, or many of the other smaller towns in the county, I see very little corner cutting.  I see very little “duct-tape” repair work.  (Unless it’s actual duct work, but that’s beside the point.)

Effingham County is a very good place to live, and my wife and I have chosen to raise our family here for a number of good reasons.  For one, we both teach here, and secondly, it’s a half-way point between our two extended families, so there are just some logical reasons for us to settle down where we have.

Beyond that, though, this is a community who clearly values its young people.  From the AHA film festival wrapping up this week, to the CEO classes, to all the vocational opportunities emerging and reemerging throughout the county, this community cares. From Blessings in a Backpack to the Harmony Playground, from the Crisis Nursery to simply all the churches that have invested so much into our young people, by no rational metric could someone look at this community and say, “They shortchange their kids.”

So I don’t think there’s really a good reason to write yet another column about taxes, because I’m optimistic that on April 4^th, this philosophy will play itself out on the ballot.  Effingham County will once again invest in its most valuable resource: its children.

Just to be on the safe side, though, do your part and vote “yes.”